Search Categories - Any -25 Lines or FewerCanadaPre 21st Century21st Century Grade levels - Any -Grades 7-9 / Sec. 1-3Grades 10-12 / Sec. 4 & 5 / CEGEP 1 Sort by RandomNewestMost popularA -> ZZ -> A Apply Harryette Mullen it’s rank, it cranks you up it’s rank it cranks you up crash you’re fracked you suck shucks you’re wack you be all you cracked up to be dead on arrival overdosed on whatever excess of hate and love Chen Chen When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities To be a good ex/current friend for R. To be one last inspired way to get back at R. To be relationship advice for L. To be advice for my mother. To be a more comfortable Lorna Goodison Ideas of Home i Winter has landed; my boot bucks on a stone surrounded by snow; I swear, I murmur Oracabessa. “The rock” is what I call home, Raoul Fernandes An Online Friend Dies Somewhere Outside the Internet Freezes, goes blue screen, shuts down. Dead pixel, dark. Ghost echoes, lossy in the source code. Time zones away, people who have actually shaken hands with my online friend Patricia Smith Hip-Hop Ghazal Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips, decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips. As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak, Etel Adnan absence. displacement. absence. displacement. waiting. then comes rejection. anger follows. shame makes the beds the shadows jostle between the walls of the scarcely visited cities. Jessica Johns How Not to Spill Dad has creases on his hands so thick they could split with a poke. He gestures for me to try so I do. His skin bends on a hinge and out spills every good and bad thing: cattails from our Matthew Zapruder Sun Bear yesterday at the Oakland zoo I was walking alone for a moment past the enclosure holding the sun bear Paul Muldoon The Loaf When I put my finger to the hole they’ve cut for a dimmer switch in a wall of plaster stiffened with horsehair it seems I’ve scratched a two-hundred-year-old itch Luljeta Lleshanaku January 1, Dawn After the celebrations, people, TV channels, telephones, the year’s recently-corrected digit finally falls asleep. Between the final night and the first dawn a jagged piece of sky Ashley Qilavaq-Savard Skins what a glory feeling it is to sit in the sun by the oceanside as tulugait and naujait sing circling above and scrape skins with centuries of arnait guiding my ulu Selina Boan From all you can is the best you can i once shoved my foot through glass getting to know my own anger its patches of stupid bloody love stress is just a socially acceptable word for fear Jessie Loyer pimîhkân Here's how you make pemmican 1. wiyâs 2. pânisâwân 3. kâhkêwak 4. yîwahikanak 5. pimîhkân Here's how you make pemmican Harry Baker Paper People I like people. I’d like some paper people. They’d be purple paper people. Maybe pop-up purple paper people. Proper pop-up purple paper people. Michael Prior A Hundred and Fifty Pounds In some, the luggage lies open like a mouth mid-sentence. In others, closed zippers grimace: What would you have brought? Slippers, a stuffed platypus, a gold watch Natalie Scenters-Zapico Lima Limón :: Madurez I wear a peineta & pin a mantilla to my hair I want to be Conchita Piquer warning women about becoming lemons. The goal: tener alguien quien me quiera. I want to be my mother singing me Kayla Czaga Livejournal.com/lonelyradio We could read your words from anywhere but you felt like the only soul sitting in your swivel chair listening to your parents dream-breathing down the hall while you typed Kaveh Akbar How Prayer Works Tucked away in our tiny bedroom so near each other the edge of my prayer rug covered the edge of his, my brother and I prayed. We were 18 and 11 maybe, or 19 and 12. He was back from college where he built his own Benjamin Garcia Bliss Point or What Can Best Be Achieved by Cheese A.k.a. the other gold. Now that's the stuff, Natalie Wee Let Us Be Fireflies Let Us Be Fireflies All day we practice morse code signals Adebe D. A. Ex Libris I come from the land of Where You From? My people dispossessed of their stories and who have died again and again in a minstrelsy of afterlives, wakes, the dead who walk, waiting and Elizabeth Bachinsky Wolf Lake It was down that road he brought me, still in the trunk of his car. I won’t say it felt right, but it did feel expected. The way you know Souvankham Thammavongsa Gayatri I have a picture of us when we are seven but we aren’t in it. At the time it was taken we thought we were. We posed with our wide Sandra Ridley From Silvija If you can’t speak / write in a fissured / alter-language Of nerve-matter / dura mater / orbit of the central axis By a crevice / scattered / venous lacunae / lamina code Douglas Gary Freeman memories of my youth as children we learned to stand on one leg clasping bundles of hope between our teeth not because we wanted to resemble flocks of black flamingos Titilope Sonuga I Am l am gap tooth black girl back corner of class scribbling left-handed poetry on blank paper save the school's curriculum for later I am El Jones Glass Hands: A Eulogy on the Anniversary of the Pandemic Hands pressed to glass On the fence across from the long-term care home families leave memorials for auntie, kokum, baba Ink runs in the rain and half-mast flags Nathaniel Mackey On Antiphon Island — “mu” twenty-eighth part — On Antiphon Island they lowered the bar and we bent back. It wasn't limbo we were in albeit Brandon Wint From: Incantation: Memory of Water Tonight, a strand of my great-grandmother’s hair sashes an amber beer bottle discarded by a tourist. A white thread of my grandmother’s baptismal robe is a bangle on a wrist of kelp Anna Yin Picking Up a Dandelion Before dawn, I pick you up, then bring you closer. My fingers slowly roll over your body, removing seeds attached to you, free them into the air. I hear you sigh Claudia Rankine from Citizen The rain this morning pours from the gutters and everywhere else it is lost in the trees. You need your glasses to single out what you know is there because Noelle Kocot Paying Attention He is not doing well. She is not “Doing well.” They are not doing well. And so the new day blooms with its Frills held tight across the window. If I could know that which resembles Kevin Spenst Top After learning “me” and “I” but well before my father learns a restraining order's between him and our home, we share some good times. Remember the back of his bicycle. Ron Padgett Prose Poem (“The morning coffee.”) The morning coffee. I’m not sure why I drink it. Maybe it’s the ritual of the cup, the spoon, the hot water, the milk, and the little heap of brown grit, the way they come together to form a nail I can hang the Kaveh Akbar River of Milk bear with me it wasn’t long ago I was brainless lazily pulling fireflies into my teeth chewing them into pure light so much of me then was nothing Rowan Ricardo Phillips Little Song Both guitars run trebly. One noodles Over a groove. The other slushes chords. Then they switch. It’s quite an earnest affair. Kim Addonizio Aquarium The fish are drifting calmly in their tank between the green reeds, lit by a white glow that passes for the sun. Blindly, the blank glass that holds them in displays their slow Shirley Camia Sorting through Documents at Dawn three crosses appear on the tv screen following a sweep of my hair that felt like your hand maybe i dreamt it but i so badly Cedar Sigo Poems for Saints (1) Wioletta Greg All About My Grandmother Wheat daughter, prisoner of sneaky pigweed, mother to the five corners of the world and your three hectares, beak-nosed carpenter’s wife and the potter’s lover, Language English